


The Gift

by novemberhush



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Could I USE the word ‘sweater’ any more times in this??, Eddie Diaz wants to give them to him, Evan “Buck” Buckley deserves nice things, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, POV Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Pining Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Soft Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), We see what you did there with the coffee maker Buck, and vice versa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 22:22:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29864949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novemberhush/pseuds/novemberhush
Summary: When Eddie buys Buck an expensive present, for no other reason than that he wants to, he knows there’s a good chance Buck will realize exactly how Eddie feels about him. He just hopes Buck returns his feelings (and not the really nice cashmere sweater).-Eddie Diaz Week 2021, Day 2: “This is nice.” + soft
Relationships: Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz, Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 173





	The Gift

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So I actually had the idea for this fic a little while ago and then I saw the Day 2 prompt for Eddie Diaz Week 2021 (big thanks to the organizers) was **”This is nice.” + soft** and I knew I already had the soft part covered and could easily slip the line of dialogue into my story and, well, here we are! I hope you enjoy. :-)

It was too much. $606 (plus tax). But at the same time, it wasn’t enough. How could Eddie even begin to repay Buck for all he’s done, all he continues to do, for him and Christopher? If he really were to try to put it in monetary terms he’d need to scrimp and save a hell of a lot more than he already was doing just to pay off this sweater. $606 (plus tax) on his credit card had already meant cutting back on everything he possibly could, everything that wouldn’t impact negatively on Christopher, that is. 

But it’d all be worth it to see Buck in this ridiculously expensive, ridiculously soft, ridiculously pretty sweater. It’s high-quality cashmere, a beautiful deep blue (‘sapphire’ the woman in the store had called it) colour and the moment Eddie had seen it in the store window he knew he had to get it for Buck. He’d stopped in his tracks, right there, outside the store, a store he’d never usually give a second glance to because he knew guys like him on a wage like his couldn’t afford to shop there.

There it was, though. This sweater that looked like it’d been tailor made for Buck, Eddie knowing nothing about clothes or fashion but somehow sure the cut of it would fit and flatter Buck in all the right ways, showing off his delectable upper body to perfection. As for the colour, well, Buck suited almost every colour under the sun, but this? It was like the gods themselves had conspired to create the perfect shade of blue to complement Buck’s hair and skin tone, to really make the pink of his lips and birthmark pop, and to highlight those incredible eyes of his. Eddie had to have it, and for once in his life he didn’t second guess himself, marching straight into the store, feeling like Julia Roberts in that scene in _Pretty Woman_ where all the snooty sales assistants look down their noses at her but not letting that stop him from making his impulsive purchase.

Of course, the second guessing started the moment he stepped back into his truck, looking down at the classy cream and gold rectangular gift box the lady in the store had neatly folded the sweater into in such a way that Eddie knew not to remove it from the box to admire it once more when he got home because he’d never be able to get it folded again so perfectly. It hadn’t stopped him removing the lid and running his hand over the soft fabric at least three times a day since then, though, all the while quashing down thoughts about what a purchase like this said, concerned that it went too far, gave too much away, crossed an invisible line. 

But then he would remember the top-of-the-line coffee maker Buck had bought him, albeit under the guise of a prank because he knew Eddie needed his java every day but would never drop that kind of money on himself, and his worries eased just a little. Because, sure, Buck was generous with everyone, and as a single guy with no dependents he had a little more disposable income to play around with than Eddie, but he wasn’t going around buying Hen, Chim, Bobby, or anyone else for that matter, expensive presents for no real reason other than he wanted to. Buck had been saying something with the gift, even if he hadn’t realized it himself. Eddie could only hope he was saying the same thing Eddie was saying with this sweater.

So now it was time to give it to Buck. His birthday was still months away and Eddie didn’t want to (couldn’t, if he was honest) wait that long. He’d missed Christmas, only spotting the sweater in late January, and there was no way in hell he was giving it to Buck on Valentine’s Day. No matter how much Eddie felt a gift like this exposed about how he felt about Buck, there was still a little room for plausible deniability should it quickly become obvious Buck hadn’t been sending the same message Eddie was with his gift, but presenting it to him on Valentine’s Day would have left no doubt about what the gift meant. 

Valentine’s Day had been and gone now, though, and Eddie knew he either had to bite the bullet and give Buck the sweater or hide it away at the back of his closet for evermore. And, yeah, the irony of being stuck in a closet for the rest of time was not lost on Eddie, thank you very much.

He didn’t have time to think much more about it, though, it fast approaching 11 o’clock, the time he’d arranged for Buck to call round, ostensibly so they could have brunch and hang out a little on their day off until it was time to go collect Chris from school and maybe take him to the park to feed the ducks before all heading home together for a cosy night in. 

Eddie had specifically chosen to invite Buck round while Chris was at school so he wouldn’t be tempted to use his son as a buffer between them. He’d also asked Buck not to tell Chris he was coming, on the pretext they could surprise Chris, but really it was because if Buck realized what Eddie was saying with this gift and ran for the hills then at least Chris wouldn’t be disappointed at not seeing his Buck when he had been expecting to. It would also give Eddie some time to try to put the pieces of his heart back together enough so he could muster up a brave face for his son, although Eddie knew they’d never fit together quite the same way again if Buck was the one to break his heart. There would be no getting over him.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, shattering the too loud silence that always seemed to settle around the house when he was there alone without Chris and/or Buck’s presence to both ground him and lift him up. He instantly recognized Buck’s familiar enthusiastic rap. Right on time, as always, never seeming to want to miss a single second he could be spending with Chris and Eddie, but never wanting to intrude by arriving too early either. Not that either Eddie or Chris would mind, but if Eddie often feared he wasn’t enough then Buck matched him with his anxiety about being too much. 

Swallowing down his nerves, he cast one more glance at the gift box sitting on the coffee table and went to let Buck in, going through the motions of greeting his best friend (and maybe more, if he was lucky), trying to act like today was a day just like any other. Of course, Buck knew him too well for that. Eddie had never known anyone who could read him so well or so easily as Buck.

“Eddie, you okay?” he asked, genuine concern etched into every crevice of his face. When Eddie just nodded, Buck changed tack, aiming for lighthearted but his eyes giving away the fact he was still worried.

“Are you sure? Because I could go grab you some laxatives, if you want. Might help with that constipated look you’re sporting.”

Eddie snorted, glad to feel some of the tension he was holding in his body melt away. Buck had always been able to do that.

“Nice, dude, real nice,” he joked back before his eye caught on the gift box and he remembered what he had asked Buck here for.

Deciding he couldn’t wait any longer and not even giving Buck time to take off his jacket or sit down, Eddie grabbed the box off the table, practically shoving it into Buck’s hands.

“Here, this is for you,” he mumbled, praying Buck would be too distracted by the gift to notice the blush Eddie could feel creeping across his face.

Buck stared at the gift box in his hands for a moment, confusion clear in his expression.

“For me? Why? What’s the occasion? It’s not my birthday,” he finally spoke up.

“No occasion,” Eddie shrugged. “I just… saw it and thought of you.”

“Eddie…”

“Just open it,” Eddie cut in, the soft way Buck had breathed his name turning his insides to mush. “And it’s okay if you don’t like it, you don’t have to pretend if you don’t. But I think you will like it. Well, I hope so anyway,” he babbled, the words rushing out of him. Gulping in a deep breath in an attempt to stop his rambling and centre himself, he gestured to the box. “Go on,” he urged, “take a look.”

Buck held his gaze for a second longer, leaving Eddie feeling flayed open by the intensity of the look in his eyes, before turning his attention again to the gift box. Sitting down on the couch, he set the box back on the coffee table before leaning forward and gently easing the lid of it. Eddie could swear he heard Buck’s breath hitch when he saw the sweater.

“Eddie, this is… wow, man. This is nice. I mean, this is… this is _really_ nice. And it’s so soft!” he said, a look of wonder lighting up his face as he trailed his fingers across the fabric in a way that had Eddie ashamed to admit he was feeling envious of a sweater. A _sweater_ , for God’s sake! A very nice $606 (plus tax!) sweater, but a sweater all the same.

“I… Eddie, I can’t accept this,” Buck said then, turning towards him, a pinched look replacing the one of wonder on his face.

“You can, and you will,” Eddie insisted, rolling his eyes at the earnestness in those blue eyes that had seen through him so many times but never seemed to help Buck see his own self-worth. “Go on, try it on,” he said, with a jerk of his chin in the direction of the hall leading to the bedrooms and bathroom, expecting Buck to want to change in private and maybe check out how the sweater looked on him in a mirror. 

He really should have known better.

Buck grinned, standing up to quickly shuck his jacket before grabbing the back of his T-shirt, yanking it off over his head and tossing it in a ball on the couch, leaving Eddie dry-mouthed and weak-kneed at the expanse of smooth, inked skin and firm, taut muscle on display. Sure, he’d seen Buck shirtless more times than he could count, both at work and outside of it, but he had yet to become inured to the sight.

Scrambling for something to say to try to fill the silence that had fallen between them, and to cover the way he knew he’d been gaping at his best friend’s bare torso, Eddie quipped, “I hope you’re not gonna treat this sweater the way you just did that poor shirt.”

This time it was Buck who rolled his eyes, stepping forward to reach down for said sweater, unfolding it carefully out of the box, as if it were made of spun gold. He held it out in front of him, admiring it for a second, before slipping it over his head and down his torso, strong arms filling the sleeves snugly.

Eddie had to remind himself to keep breathing when Buck turned to him, expression soft and bashful, his eyebrows raised in a way that clearly said _Well, what do you think?_

“Perfect,” Eddie whispered. “You’re perfect.”

The way Buck’s eyes widened before his whole face softened even more, if that was even possible, alerted Eddie to what he’d said. “I mean, _it_... it’s perfect. Perfect for you,” he stammered. Embarrassed but unable to stop himself, he added, “I knew it would be,” in a voice that sounded soft and small, unbearably vulnerable and unbelievably fond all at once. But this was Buck. He could be all those things around Buck without fear of judgment or censure or ridicule or pity.

“It’s so soft,” Buck said again, looking down at the sweater and slowly dragging his hand down the front of it. “Here, feel,” he said, looking up at Eddie, ridiculously long eyelashes fluttering at him as he held out his arm. Eddie stumbled forward, drawn in like a magnet by those baby blues, assuming Buck wanted him to touch the sleeve of the sweater and indeed feel how soft it was.

But when Eddie reached out tentatively to touch the sleeve, Buck surprised him by grabbing hold of his hand, tugging him closer, and placing it directly over Buck’s heart, holding it there as Eddie felt a newfound kinship with every romantic heroine he’d previously mocked who had swooned at every heated glance thrown their way or fainted at the slightest touch of their lover’s hand.

“It’ll only get softer!” Eddie blurted out, feeling Buck’s strong, steady heartbeat under his hand as his own started thundering in his chest.

“It will?” Buck said, raising another quizzical eyebrow at Eddie’s outburst.

“Yeah, yeah, it will. The really good cashmere gets softer with wear and washing. The lady in the store said so and I looked it up online when I got home and she wasn’t bullshitting me.”

“That’s… that’s good to know,” Buck smiled. The smile soon gave way to a more serious look, though, and Eddie steeled himself for whatever Buck was going to say next.

“Eddie, why did you really buy me this? Not that I don’t love it, because I do, don’t get me wrong. I think it’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever given me, and Maddie gave me a Jeep once. But why?”

Eddie swallowed, knowing it was now or never, and never was never really an option, not when it came to Buck and letting him know how much he was loved.

“You know how I said I ‘saw it and thought of you’?” 

Buck nodded, encouraging him to keep going with a squeeze of his hand and an open expression, their eyes locking, Eddie unable to look away even if he wanted to. Which he didn’t. He never wanted to look away from Buck.

“Well, it would probably be more accurate to say ‘I was thinking of you and I saw it’,” he said quietly, taking a step closer to Buck and bringing his free hand up to cover Buck’s where it still held his other hand to Buck’s chest.

“Because I’m always thinking of you, Buck. You and Chris, the two halves of my heart, my world entire. It doesn’t matter what I’m doing or how focused I seem on something else, you two are always there. Maybe not always at the forefront of my mind, but you’re there, at the back of it, reminding me of everything I have to come home to, everything I have to fight for. Reminding me of everything I’ve ever wanted. My family. My son. My… you. You, Buck. It’s always you. It’s always going to be you.”

Later, Eddie will remember the soft brush of cashmere under his fingertips as he wrapped his arms around Buck’s shoulders and pulled him impossibly closer. For now, though, he was too caught up in thinking how nothing could be softer than Buck’s lips as they brushed against his own when Buck surged forward and let Eddie know that maybe, just maybe, he was always thinking of Eddie, too.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so about a week ago (maybe? What even is time these days?) I was reading another Buddie fic and there was a line in it that I’d already thought of and was planning on using in this fic (the one about Buck and Chris being the two halves of Eddie’s heart) so I just wanted the writer of that fic if they’re reading this (and anyone who read it and then read this one) to know that I _swear_ (may God strike me down if I’m lying) that I’d thought of the line before reading their fic and that I didn’t steal it. I considered cutting it from this fic altogether, but I really like the way it works with the following part (about them being Eddie’s world entire) and even if no one else knew _I_ would still know that I was using it in all good conscience because I did think of it independently of the other fic. So, yeah, awkward, I know. Great minds think alike, I guess?
> 
> I also realize this whole spiel is probably making some of you think ‘the lady doth protest too much’! But the truth is I hate the thought of anyone thinking I’m stealing other people’s work when that really isn’t the case. (What can I say? I’m a worrier.)
> 
> Anyway, if you’ve made it this far, thank you so much for reading and if you feel like sharing your thoughts on the story please feel free to do so, either here in the comments section or over on tumblr where I’m also known as novemberhush. Stay safe. xxx


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